Skip to main content

The Moss Story

The road is familiar, at the end there should be a stone boundary where I can find the moss in abundance. Far from an official building, nestled among trees I can sense it. My steps gradually walk in its direction leaving many small mosses on the way, each of which I do not want to disturb in the name of pilferage. The boundary was however, not present to which I felt dismayed. The space beneath the trees has been converted to parking space. Before I could sit out of breath on a near pavement, my eyes fell on spaces below the trees. The trees are in full bloom due to rains but old, decayed leaves still formed blanket. As I went near, there beneath them laid house full of moss.


dichotomy...
from a fissure of rubber tree
ficus

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Echoes, my new poetry book

Echoes published by Write India is recently released in September.  It has been an amazing experience to through them once again and truly as desired they echo through mind and soul.

Here is blurb at back of book:

Consistency where life frames women in different roles and you feel inhabited.

In such serenity I sit and think saturated with thoughts.  A woman speaking of in her element perennially devises how way further will be for her without the barriers of struggle.  Nature is succour.  One easily connects with primal action born of thought. As innate as vital energy of mind and body, the poems here touch aspects of womanhood subliminally.

It would not be in woods or meadows far reaching only through echoes, it would beat deep inside throbbing and touching through aspects of life.



A Poem from Echoes:

Cold winds with those dark clouds
on my sky are my aspirations
where horizon of blue sublime,
tiny corpuscles of lime,
from where I have sprung and this haste
do I even know the melody…

Again the Sky

First published on Literary journal.

Today showered again the sky I wondered if soaking the streets I choose to ignore.
Small leaves sprout and crawl inside me, branches spread out, straws are collected nests are created.
Lone pathway on feet speck of air or earth so full, and my own heart's silence in this moment's time.

Moon and stars

moon again behind
the hills what
myth I build on my story


******

a star out of canvas
I am 
here with truth


*****

few stars in sky
and angles in and out 
can't locate more

******


only one more round
at moon hedge
full of jasmine